Blood Balance
by llAurorall
Summary: A run gone wrong for Rachel threatens the very precarious balance she holds with Ivy. A balance that if broken, could mean her death. Rachel/Ivy


_**Rachel Morgan - Blood Balance**_

Rachel cursed herself a fool again, jamming her forearm into the kitchen sink and turning the water on full. She hissed a breath and tore another layer of skin from her lips in pain. A long wound ran from her elbow to her wrist and it was oozing blood everywhere. The icy water struck her arm to blast away grit and gore, funnelling white-hot pain along her bones.

All her injuries combined had left a smearing crimson trail through the church.

Her blouse was torn down the middle in a ragged divide. One of her shoes was still wedged in a drain and her leather trousers were abraded over her backside and knees. Bruises already purpled on her face and body. Her skin felt raw; scratched and torn in so many different places.

The enormity of her situation made Rachel lurch unsteadily into the work surface. Her head cracked against a cupboard and she cried out as the corner ploughed into her skull. Iron flooded her nostrils and slicked the back of her throat. She should have gone to a hospital.

Watching pink swirls of bloody water foam down the sink, Rachel felt the church tip on its axis. The bench was warm against her frozen fingers that ached with tension. Her feet skittered to rectify the delirious mistake and she fell, hard. Above, the tap was still spouting water down the sink; her arm effused slick black fluid on the floor.

"Ivy…"

Rachel's eyes rolled into the back of her head. A dull pounding escalated behind her eyes, threatening to drown out her staggering heart. Ivy would come home to all this blood. This lone thought dominated her brain, even though she had more immediate dangers to neutralise. But it was important to remember Ivy; to always be aware of the balance between them.

Her run had not gone as planned. A simple bag and tag, an offer too sweet to pass up in the current economic drought, had been a lethally executed ambush. She was supposed to tag a warlock pressuring a residence of humans into a protection-racket. The actual quarry had turned out to be a pack of juvenile werewolves.

Ordinarily she could have handled herself. She'd been a runner with Inderland Security for more years than she cared to remember and Ivy had taught her everything worth knowing. She was good; better than good. A few werewolves would not get the jump on a witch of her calibre. But these beasts owed allegiance to no one and with no adult Alpha to rein them in, they had become slaves to their animal nature.

As a pack, bent on sex and violence, not necessarily exclusive to each other, they got the jump on her.

An arm had lunged from the darkness, fisted Rachel's wild red hair and smacked her head to the wall. Black unconsciousness had come as a punishing wave. Her brain had danced in her cranium like a ping-pong ball and when she awoke it was still vibrating.

Her arms were above her head in a vice-like grip with her backside dragging asphalt. Blood tracked down her face to dry in a scratchy rivulet that pinched when she grimaced. The side of her scalp was hot and cold.

"Weren't so 'ard, was it?" Someone said, their tone wavering between boyish adolescence and adulthood.

"Shut up, dick. Ain't nothin' till we get her back to the boss." The answer was male too and the voice was hoarse, as if he smoked too many cigarettes.

Rachel yelped as her back hit a pothole in the pavement, shocking her already abused body.

"Hey, the bitch is snappin' out of it."

The first guy laughed, snorting unattractively through his nose. "Nice going, Bass; you didn't even put her out."

Abruptly, tearing another cry from her throat and lighting fireworks behind her eyes, Rachel dropped to the floor. Her head lolled uselessly and her body went prone. A dull ringing echoed in her ears.

"I'll put _you_ out in a minute!" Bass thundered. Gravel crunched under the soles of his boots as he moved into Rachel's bleary line of sight. From the size of his shoes, she could only panic about the sheer enormity of the man.

The flashes of white-hot pain behind her eyes were nothing compared to the agony when she tried to move. Everything hurt, from her toes to her nose. Where she had intended to grab the silver blade sheathed at her ankle, her fingers did no more than twitch.

She didn't have time to indulge her current state. Whatever the weres had planned for her, Rachel was certain she didn't want to be around for it.

She took a deep breath, stocking up on endurance that was fast fleeing and made to move again. The hurt rushed back with the same paralysing intensity but she pushed on. Her nails scuffed over loose gravel at the same time her boot moved up. Sweat coated her upper lip and dampened the blood on her forehead. By the time her fingers latched on the hem of her trousers she was shivering.

Cold silver against her palm filled her with sudden hope.

Clutching the blade for timeless seconds, while the boys around her bickered like pups, Rachel marshalled her strength. She would get one chance to take the larger wolf out and if she failed, she knew she could not overpower him in her current state.

The small, slightly curved blade slipped between muscle and tendon, cleaving bone with buttery ease. Instantly the flesh seared and Bass roared, collapsing. His two accomplices fell into a shocked stupor. Rachel pulled the knife free from Bass's ankle with a grunt and rolled. Bile rose to the back of her throat and burnt her nose.

"Grab her!" Bass groaned.

Rachel barely made it to her knees before she was hauled up by her hair. The knife clattered to floor. Air rushed from her lungs in a blinding burst as her back hit concrete.

"I love it when they struggle." The third wolf cooed, pressing against her. His lips ghosted her ear and the stench was overpowering. Calloused fingers slid down her throat to the cleavage of her shirt, shredding the red cotton like cobwebs. Absently she noted the chill breeze stealing across her bruised skin.

In periphery the second wolf was circling, a manic grin curling over glistening canines. The lecherous glint to his eyes turned savage when the wolf holding Rachel roughed a hand over her breast.

Rachel had nothing to fight a werewolf. The little silver knife winked at her mockingly from the ground. But she could fight a man, even one with superior strength. Men, unlike werewolves, had weaknesses should could exploit.

For the second time that night she was unceremoniously dumped. The piercing cry from her captor was even more chilling than the one Bass had loosed. Both the werewolf's hands cupped his groin and he tilted like a falling pine, crashing to the ground as his eyes rolled back.

Panting, Rachel started forward on her knees. Her heart was beating in earnest and blood freely tracked down her face.

Her fingers grasped the knife just as someone grabbed her ankles and heaved. Flesh peeled from her palms on the gravel. She tried to kick her legs free but the last of the wolves, the one who sounded the youngest, had her legs in a bruising grip.

Rachel jerked as the wolf gave a final heave and she slammed into the side of a dump. The sonorous chime of metal fuelled the blinding headache gathering storm at her temples. Spots danced in her eyes and as she unfurled her damaged frame, she noticed a slick fluid coating her fingers.

Her knife lay discarded at her side but had left a long tear through her arm in its wake. Her skin flamed along the divide and blood pooled out in a white-hot torrent.

It was when she saw the blood, its sheer volume, it occurred to Rachel she might not escape.

Rachel stood on shaky legs, ignoring her bleeding arm, and squared off against the last wolf. He was no taller than herself, with bright copper hair sticking out in odd tufts. His frame was lean, from neglect rather than training. Only werewolf lineage made his strength superior to her own.

She wobbled back against the wheelie-bin. The wolf grinned. It would take very little to finish the deed and they both knew it.

"This boss of yours…" Rachel mumbled, swaying. "He say he wanted me dead?"

"He didn't say it would be a problem if you was."

It was not the answer she had been hoping for. Another icy blast skated her chest. "Well, fuck."

Copper growled low in his throat with anticipation. When he charged and smacked head first into the bin, collapsing at its base, Rachel didn't know who was more surprised; she had never moved so fast in her life.

Three werewolves down. Rachel retrieved her knife and set off at a loping jog, thankful for that small stroke of luck. It wouldn't take long for at least one wolf to recover and they would, without doubt, pursue her. The pressure of escape forced blood from her arm quicker than was safe but she had to keep running.

Attempts to staunch the flow were futile. Pain and weakness were drowned out by her heart, hammering madly in her ears. Every footfall felt like a hammer blow. The arctic air almost robbed Rachel of breath. Flurries of chalky breath obscured her vision. All the while, she dared not look back.

Despite everything she had stumbled back to the church without being set-upon. The relief had been short lived when she realised she was home alone. It was better that Ivy was away but Rachel had hoped Jenks and his family were around. Even at only a few inches tall, pixie help would still be better than no help.

Rachel's hand twitched as the rapidly increasing pond of blood engulfed her fingertips; against her numb fingers it felt hot and viscous. The ceiling swayed pendulously back and forth. She could understand, in a way, how Ivy struggled with her craving. A vampire could no more resist free-flowing blood than an alcoholic, wine. Add the alluring nature of blood; its heat and thickness, deep colour and scent; it was no wonder vampires were as addicted as they were.

If Ivy had been home, Rachel knew she would have been killed within seconds. Ivy could exercise control Rachel had never seen in other vampires, but Ivy wasn't a saint. She lusted for the blood Rachel had so long denied and with it now saturating their home, the temptation would be relentless.

Still, she couldn't not hope that Ivy were here. She needed help.

Rachel's peripheral vision shrank inward. Each breath whistled in her throat. She felt colder than a chill winter's eve. Distantly it occurred she was going to die on her kitchen floor. After everything she had endured she was going to end it all in her home, slipping quietly and unnoticed into the black.

So much had gone unsaid. She hadn't told Jenks how amazing he was; as a man, a runner and a partner. In Jenks she could want for nothing. If it hadn't been for him she would have met her end long before now. She owed him more than a garden and a home for his mammoth brood. Rachel owed her life; a debt she could never repay.

And then there was Ivy. Unknowingly she had tortured Ivy from the beginning; first with ignorance to vampire society and then with idiocy. How Ivy had persevered was beyond her. She knew Ivy's patience went beyond a mere working partnership. Her attraction was something they both knew but never discussed. So long as she obeyed the rules it was of no concern to Rachel who Ivy desired.

Only she did care; had always cared. She just didn't know how to own up to it.

"Gue-… Does-… No-"

The kitchen disappeared. Only the overhead light lingered as a dull glow in total darkness. She was shivering though she didn't know it. Her body was going into shock, unable to cope with the pitying volumes of blood left in her veins.

In her mind, Rachel could almost hear her.

"… Ivy."

--

Ivy pulled her helmet free in one move, ebony hair cascading down her face. Her Ducati growled between her legs like a wild animal, still raring to go even at journey's end. For a moment she stayed astride the machine. She needed a few precious seconds to gather her strength.

Rachel Morgan, her partner, was as wilful as a stallion. But with all the grace of a bull she was the biggest challenge to her self-control Ivy had ever encountered. Rachel trampled over her heart and libido on a regular basis. Her intent was never to harm but that didn't make the pain any more bearable.

The dying motorbike engine signalled more than just her return home. With a weariness unseen in vampires, she dismounted and started up the church walkway. The sudden stench of blood assailed her nostrils.

Her helmet and keys plunged to the ground. Ivy's ravenous gaze raked the blood-slicked pavement, following the trail to the partially open church door. A great red smear tarnished the old oak, like someone had thrown all their weight into opening it.

Ivy's pupils contracted sharply and her canines ached. In a drunken stupor she let the aroma of fresh blood wash over her. She lurched forward and her boot sent something skittering across the paving. Rachel's knife, bloody too, shone brightly in the moonlight.

"Rachel!"

Snapped-to, Ivy charged into the church. Mid-stride she stumbled to an ungainly halt. Blood was everywhere; the floor, the walls and the furniture. Smears and splash-back marked out an unsteady trail. Suddenly she felt cold; terrified to realise the amount of blood that had been lost was too much; far too much.

"Rachel!" She called again, her usually even voice cracking. Panic inched up her spine in cold fingers. The church was unnaturally quiet, only the sound of running water permeating the large space.

The further into the church she followed the trail, the more of the dark liquid Ivy could see. No longer smeared, it pooled in droplets.

"… Ivy."

Ivy used every ounce of supernatural strength she possessed to hone in on the whisper-call of her name. Her legs nearly gave way when she saw Rachel on the kitchen floor. A fresh wave of nausea brought bile up her throat.

Rachel lay sprawled across the tile. Blood from her arm slicked everywhere; even now it steadily, weakly, continued to escape. Her face was scratched and bruised and Ivy belatedly noticed her clothes were shredded.

In a heart beat she was on her knees at Rachel's side. She passed a cool, shaking hand over Rachel's forehead. In the other she clasped the injured arm. She felt Rachel's thin pulse against her fingertips.

"It's going to be okay, Rachel. I promise." Her voice cracked with uncertainty.

Who was responsible and the multitude of ways Ivy planned to kill them, could wait. Rachel was frigid against her hands and gasping for breath. She didn't have long.

To her intense guilt, Ivy had dreamt about Rachel's blood. Dreamt about it running thick and fast into her mouth. But now faced with reality of those dreams, all she felt was terror.

Ivy adjusted Rachel's injured arm in her hands. The move drew a groan from Rachel, glassy eyes rolling back into her head. Taking a deep breath, feeling her vampire instincts flare into overdrive, Ivy pressed her lips to the wound.

Fresh, warm blood in her system tore through her strength like a cannon blast. Ivy swallowed weakly. Rachel's blood slid down her throat and it was a revelation. The more she drank, the weaker her resolve became. Her mind, her heart, screamed to stop. She didn't want this; she didn't want to kill Rachel and she was already perilously close to oblivion. But her body, her vampiric nature, overpowered her; as it did all of their kind.

She luxuriated in the thickness and warmth, groaning with ecstasy. The rush made Ivy's head spin and her muscles tightened in glorious anticipation. Something so earth-shattering could never be wrong. The longer her mouth gorged on Rachel's arm, the more she disconnected from the act. At the core it was only her and the feed and the blissful way it made her feel.

Rachel moaned weakly and Ivy threw herself to the other side of the kitchen. Cupboards shattered into splinters and utensils crashed down. Ivy heaved for breath, Rachel's voice ringing in her ears. Fine rivulets of blood tracked down her chin. Her eyes shone completely black.

"I don't know what to do." Ivy rasped in the wreckage, verging on tears. Nearing Rachel would sentence her to death. All because she didn't possess the strength to save the woman she loved.

Rachel was an awe-inspiring witch. She had courage in spades, to the point of recklessness. Her power was phenomenal and barely tapped. But more than that, she was loving and kind. It was these traits Ivy had been attracted to first. Their few interactions in Inderland Security were enough to glimpse the woman beneath. It was the _woman_, not the witch that had demanded Ivy follow when Rachel resigned the I.S. It was the woman that arrested her so; the erratic, beautiful and determined woman.

For all the reasons she could name to love Rachel, there was not one to stop Ivy from killing her. Not because she wanted to. Only because she could no more stop being a vampire than Rachel could a witch. And she wanted Rachel's blood. Wanted it beyond reason; beyond love.

Ivy growled at the injustice. She couldn't let Rachel die; she would hate herself forever. The self-loathing was unrepentant as it stood.

For the first time, she wished she was simply human.

Struck by that thought, Ivy crawled from the remains of the kitchen worktops. Her palms smeared along the slippery floor as she crawled. Crimson prints stamped the fridge door in a macabre imitation of muddy paws. She pulled so hard the door wrenched free in a grind of protesting metal.

The orange juice carton was in her hand before Ivy consciously thought it. She upended the carton all over the floor and Rachel. The sharp tang of citrus flooded over the warmer allure of blood. With only a second to grit her teeth, Ivy reached back for the other carton. The cardboard shredded and she poured the juice all over her face and tilted back so it went up her nose. Her eyes watered and she gagged but forced herself to continue.

Before the last disappeared she chugged the dregs of juice to cleanse her mouth.

Almost overwhelmed by the caustic burn of orange up her nose, Ivy crashed back to Rachel's side. Feeding was no longer on her mind. Reverently, but urgently, she scooped Rachel's smaller form into her arms. She groaned and Ivy thought she heard her name again.

"I've got you…" Ivy soothed, as much for her own benefit as Rachel's.

Calling on the very nature she despised so much, Ivy ran. She was out of the church in a heartbeat and astride her bike a second later. She even managed to scoop up the keys min-stride. Rachel wilted against the bike and Ivy. Flaming red hair, saturated with blood, clung to them both. The orange juice was still burning Ivy's nose.

She peeled out of their neighbourhood as if all the demons of the ever-after were hot on their tail. The journey from The Hollows to the human side of Cincinnati blurred by in a rush of traffic. All Ivy knew was to get to a hospital. Get there, or die.

--

The world was bleached white. A faint buzzing lingered overhead.

Rachel coughed. Her throat felt like sandpaper and clogged with cotton. When her eyes opened they felt puffy, as though she had been crying. The shock white of sterile lighting made real tears spring forth.

Feebly, her hand twitched. Her whole body ached. She tried to remember the cause but it drifted away.

Steadily, the high blipping of a heart monitor leached into her consciousness. A rushing sound followed that matched the steady rise and fall of her chest. When she tried to swallow, something clenched her throat.

Rachel panicked. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. The lazy resurgence into reality lurched forward at rocket speed. Her legs shifted restlessly beneath heavy sheets. Pitying moans rang in her ears as she tried to scream past the obstruction in her mouth. Terror like she'd never known raced through her body.

"Ms Morgan, relax. You're going to be okay."

A blurry figure waded into Rachel's line of sight. The words registered dully against the force of her fear and she continued to thrash.

"Ms Morgan, you're going to hurt yourself if you don't calm down. You're in a hospital… Ms Morgan, can you hear me?"

Rachel didn't remember going to hospital. The last occasion she could recall with clarity was arguing with Ivy over whose turn it was to clean up.

"Hold her down." The voice continued, sterner. Rachel kicked up a storm. "Damn it back to the Turn, she's going to shred herself to pieces! Hold her down!"

The bed rushed up to meet Rachel as something heavy flattened out over her chest. Her meagre reserves of strength couldn't compete. Fingers fumbled over her face and she tried to scream again, only she didn't have the breath. A sickening snap ricocheted through her skull.

As if someone was trying to pull her stomach out through her mouth, Rachel heaved. Something hard and sharp scraped up her insides, clanking against her teeth. All at once she felt empty and raw.

"Breathe Ms Morgan. You need to breathe."

The weight lifted immediately and Rachel sucked in a long, painful breath. Her chest ached and her throat was on fire.

"Well done. Just take it slow. You're going to be just fine."

Swallowing was impossible but she couldn't stop trying.

"Try this." The voice said again, soft and gentle; female. A second later a straw pressed to Rachel's lips and she blindly reached forward. "Slowly…" The woman insisted, infinitely tender. But she couldn't slow. Cool water soothed the rawness of her throat and it was heavenly. She didn't care if it made her sick; she wasn't stopping.

The straw was pulled out of reach and Rachel moaned like a wounded animal. Her throat still burned. Steadily she opened her eyes again.

"Wha-…" Her voice croaked. "What happened?"

Rachel could now clearly see the woman in front of her. She was tall, with her blonde hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail. She had a white coat on that was open a few buttons with a bizarre pipe hanging around her neck.

The doctor pulled up a chair. "We were hoping you could tell us… You've been unconscious for three days." The doctor reached forward and Rachel felt a tug on her arm. "Did you do this to yourself?" She asked tentatively. "The vampire that attacked you has been arrested but this looks like a knife wound."

"I'm a runner." Rachel choked, as if that explained everything.

"We called Inderland Security." She responded. "They don't have you on file as a runner."

Rachel fought the urge to laugh. It seemed even though she had quit the I.S and settled her debt, they still weren't willing to own her existence. "Freelance." She clarified with a slight smile.

Abruptly something occurred to Rachel and she spoke it before the thought could escape. "How did you know I wasn't human?"

The doctor laughed. "We have a warlock on-staff here whose job it is to identify inderlanders."

Rachel's throat contracted again painfully. "What _was_ that thing?"

"You were brought in here barely alive. You'd lost a lot of blood. After the transfusion we put you into a drug-induced coma, to give you a chance to recuperate. The pipe in your throat was hooked up to machine that helps you breathe."

Not for the first time since waking, Rachel thought she was going to vomit. Much as she was glad they had treated her, as a witch, human medicine was still something that made her uneasy.

"When can I leave?" She asked, not caring it sounded ungrateful. She had to get back to the church. Ivy was probably having a conniption over her absence.

"Not for a-"

Rachel bolted up in bed. Something on her hand pinched. "Vampire!" She scrambled out of bed. Her legs gave way under her weight and she staggered headlong. A red smear was tracking across her wrist. "The vampire that brought me here, what was her name? What did she look like?"

"Ms Morgan, I must insist!"

"Tell me her name, Turn it!" She yelled, near panic. Her hands gripped the doctors white jacket so hard they shook.

"She was taken into custody by the Federal Inderlander Bureau! The I.S were practically straining at the leash to get their hands on her."

A cold fear was inching up Rachel's soul. She felt dizzy. The answer was obvious but she had to ask. "Her name, doctor."

"Tamwood. Ivy Tamwood."

--

Rachel had fainted. When she came-to she was still on the floor. The blonde doctor was peering at her intently. A bright light winged across her eyes.

"Welcome back, Ms Morgan." She smiled.

"I have to go… I have to get Ivy."

Rachel heard a long-suffering sigh and a breath of air ghost her face. The doctor's concerned face burned into view when the light went out. "But she attacked you. She was covered in your blood when she arrived and we confirmed her saliva in the wound on your arm."

"Ivy's my partner." Rachel groaned, not understanding anything. "She wouldn't do that."

"Clearly, she did." The doctor said, exasperated.

With a little help, Rachel sat up. She panted like she had run a marathon and her muscles burned. She hated being so weak, especially when Ivy was in danger. The Bureau had contacted Inderland Security about Ivy. If Ivy was handed over to their custody, they would execute her. Not even Ivy's status as a Tamwood vampire would prevent that; the I.S would find a way to get their revenge.

"I have to…" Rachel gasped, feeling tears burn her eyes again.

The doctor lost some of her patience. "You go back to her and next time, this Ivy could kill you. You were lucky!"

It didn't make sense for Ivy to attack her, and certainly not with a knife. The thought had never comforted her much before but if Ivy was going to take her blood, Rachel knew she would be _bitten_. Something had to have gone wrong; horribly wrong.

With a certainty Rachel didn't know she truly felt, she squared up to the doctor. "Ivy would never hurt me. Sure, she wants my blood but she would never just take it. She'd have killed me long before now if that's all she wanted." Rachel swallowed. "We live together. We're friends; partners. We don't get along so well and she can scare the crap out of me sometimes. But really, she wouldn't hurt me."

The doctor sighed. "It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself, not me." She rose and helped Rachel back to bed. "Either way, I can't let you leave. You need to remain under observation for at least a day."

"Ivy doesn't have time for me to be lying about in bed." Rachel retorted angrily.

"I'm sorry." The doctor related, almost sincerely, retreating from the room.

The door closed over with resounding finality. Rachel stared after the blonde doctor for a long time, cursing her with every word she knew. If they weren't going to let her go willingly, she was just going to have to do things the hard way.

Taking it slowly, Rachel rose from her bed again. Her bare feet gripped at the cool tiles as she took a steadying breath. The air smelt of sharp ointments and sickness. There were no obvious ways out of her room aside the door. She thought she could see shadows through the frosted glass; one in particular that paced the length of the hall. The ceiling had no loose panels to be exploited and there was no window. She was trapped.

Rachel tunnelled her fingers into her hair and winced. Her nails had scraped over a bump and caught on shredded skin. Her eyes unfocussed for a second and she recalled hitting her head. Absently her hand went to the back of her head and she felt another impact. The memory of flesh striking concrete set her teeth on edge.

She had been in a fight.

For the first time Rachel worried the doctor was right. Ivy could have beaten her senseless with a mere twitch of her wrist. Her injuries could be those of self defence. The cut to her arm might simply have been collateral and easy access.

Rachel wasn't sure if she knew Ivy at all. Her attraction had seemed pure, even though powerful. Not for a moment had she feared it could cross over into something obsessive; dangerous. Attention was flattering even if unrequited. Rachel couldn't count-on many people but she had Ivy; Ivy who would always want her, even when the lure was soul-destroying.

She had to talk to Ivy. If nothing came of it than Ivy admitting to trying to kill her, at least Rachel would know and the I.S could do what they pleased. But if Ivy was innocent then she couldn't stand by. She had to know the truth.

She had to know the truth before she could confess to her own.

The pacing shadow marched by her door again and Rachel jerked into motion. Her gait wobbled and she crashed against the door frame with a wince. She cracked the door open and waited with baited breath.

The hall Rachel's room opened onto was a busy thoroughfare. Several large desks lined the blank walls, smothered by paperwork. Hospital staff clamoured around each, barking commands at one another. Strip lights fizzed above and cast a sterile glow over everything.

A group of people, a family, were moving up the hall towards her. When they passed over her doorway Rachel darted out behind them, heart hammering against her ribcage. She followed them a few paces before diving down a stairwell. Her bare feet scuffed worn linoleum and scratched against grit. Cool air brushed under her gown as she stumbled down the numerous flights.

At the bottom Rachel had to stop and recover her breath. Her throat was burning once more and it was agony to swallow. Heavily she slid down the wall. Her head canted forward to rest on her bare legs. When she closed her eyes, she felt sea sick. For a brief second she wondered if the doctor hadn't been lying about her health.

Right or wrong, it didn't matter. She could rest when she was back at the church, with Ivy.

Rachel looked up after what felt like forever. The lights still stung her eyes. After a quick glance around she sighed. A plaque on the opposite wall declared she was in the basement. The smooth walls had changed to clumsily painted breeze blocks and instead of lino, the floor was concrete.

A search of the basement level turned up precious little. There were no exits or windows. She stumbled across an open locker room and exchanged her gown for jeans, several sizes too large, and a faded logo shirt. She even found a pair of tan boots to slip on her feet, though they flopped like clown shoes when she walked. With a torn-off string from the gown, Rachel tied back her rebellious hair.

It wasn't the best of disguises. It would allow her to move through the hospital without drawing too much attention however. Wearily, she climbed back up the stairs.

At ground level, the sight of the exit almost set her off at a run. Freedom was so close she could taste it. All that lay between them was a hundred paces of crowded foyer.

There was no way to know if anyone had noticed her missing yet.

Pulse raging madly, Rachel slipped from the shadows. Blessedly, very few spared her a second glance; when they did it was to scrunch their faces at her outfit. Her air of feigned nonchalance became natural and her escape was suddenly possible.

With the racing of her heart, her arm started to throb. A quick look at the bandage revealed blood, seeping through in a shadowy line. Protectively Rachel hugged her arm to her chest.

Security at the door wasn't concerned with her passage. Her breath halted entirely as she walked through doors, returning as a rush once she was beyond the threshold. She was almost to the main road when someone started shouting.

Panic flooded her body and made her feel heavy when she turned and saw the blonde doctor racing after her with security personnel. For a split-second Rachel was the deer in the headlights. The angry mob sprinted through the drop-off zones and temporary parking spots, coming closer and closer to where she stood, frozen.

"Crap!"

Rachel was running again.

--

The sun was rising. Ivy could feel its pull even through the thick concrete of her cell. She was now on to the third day of her incarceration, one she willingly accepted. She hadn't even fought back when the F.I.B officers had kicked her around. The punishment had left more than bruises but it had felt like justice; cathartic even.

It was her fault Rachel was in the hospital, barely clinging to life. Whatever the Federal Inderland Bureau and Inderland Security deemed as appropriate punishment, she would accept. There was nothing they could do to her that would be worse than the guilt she impressed upon herself.

Her guilt compounded at the visceral thrill she felt remembering Rachel's blood. It had quenched a thirst Ivy hadn't been aware of. And there was no going back now. If they ever released her, nothing on earth could stop her from wanting Rachel again; from taking her. The control she had once been able to summon would crumble.

For as long as she was in love with Rachel, Ivy would stay behind bars. It was the only thing keeping Rachel alive.

"She must be something."

Ivy growled unhappily.

"Not just anybody can make a vampire sigh like that." The voice came again.

"It's none of your business warlock." Ivy hissed. Under the dark curtain of her hair, her face was turning red.

The inmate in the adjoining cell had tried, with no success, to get Ivy talking. In the face of silence he had simply talked aloud, continuously. She now knew more about the faceless stranger than she did some of her own family members.

"You've been moaning and groaning like you're dying for two days straight. It's all my business, woman."

Petulantly Ivy hit the wall, satisfied when the mortar crumbled under the was fast losing her patience for asinine chatter**.**

Helplessly, Ivy's thoughts strayed back to Rachel. The last she had seen of her roommate was when she had gingerly laid her down on a hospital bed. Everyone had been deathly silent. Rachel's body was cold and breath gurgled from her throat. Blood had lashed across Ivy's skin and clothes. She was a vampire and everyone knew it. The moment Rachel was resting, several burly security guards wrestled Ivy into handcuffs.

She didn't bother fighting back.

Ivy leant back against the corner of her cell and let tears burn her eyes. She had known pain throughout her life; at times it had been her only companion. But the agony she endured with Rachel, now so far out of reach, was beyond anything Ivy could comprehend.

Their balance had strayed. Rachel had always been the dominant in their relationship. It had saved both their lives on several occasions. But now, Rachel was barely holding on to that edge that cowed Ivy's darker side. If she tempted fate, Ivy knew she would be instinct bound to drain Rachel dry. She couldn't fight what she was. All she could do was remove the temptation and pray to whatever deity would listen, that it would be enough.

"I thought your kind just took whatever blood bag they wanted." The warlock said.

Ivy sighed again, placing her head between her knees. "That's because we're monsters."

"You're not a monster, Ivy…"

The sound reached her first and Ivy thought she only imagined Rachel's voice, telling her exactly what she wanted to hear. Then a powerful, not unpleasant, wave of redwood flooded the small prison. Ivy looked up and there she was; standing hidden in the entrance way.

Rachel's hair was a mess and her features were drawn. Her clothes were not her clothes at all. The forearm-length bandage over her wound was stained rusty red**.** The memory of her lips pressed to that injury made Ivy's mouth water.

"You shouldn't be here."

"This is the woman you're pining over?" The warlock called incredulously. "She's a wreck."

Ivy was on her feet so fast Rachel missed the movement. She charged the bars blindly, stalking the length of her cell when they would not yield. Her eyes dilated and her lips pulled back to reveal sharp, hungry canines.

"Come back to me, Ivy." Rachel whispered, moving as close as she dared. "… I need you."

Ivy's gaze sharpened on Rachel. "I need you." She repeated, coming closer still. Her heart was pounding and she didn't care Ivy could hear it. When she was close enough to feel warm gusts of breath across her face, Rachel finally felt safe.

"You shouldn't be here." Ivy said hoarsely. She shook her head to clear it.

"Why?" Rachel placed her hands to bars, watching as Ivy did the same. Their hands moved close enough to feel heat but no further. Rachel felt the distance like a chasm between them; a deep yawning hole that would swallow her whole. The show of protection had warmed her heart but now there was a cold chill creeping up on them.

Ivy shied away from Rachel's enquiry like a beaten dog.

"Did you do this?" Rachel pressed, encompassing her traumatised condition. She had never been more terrified of an answer in her life. So much rested on what Ivy would say. Ivy's eyes strayed to Rachel's bandaged arm and for a moment she looked ready to burst into tears. "Did we get into a fight?"

Momentarily struck dumb, Ivy looked down into Rachel's quivering regard. "You don't remember?"

Rachel shook her head. Tendrils of ragged hair slipped down to frame her face. "I feel like a pile-up." She admitted with a rueful glance at the adjacent cell.

Ivy's soft brown eyes blinked one, twice, before closing permanently. "I did it… All of it." Rachel staggered back and to her horror, Ivy didn't stop there. "I followed you when you went out on your run. We got into a fight and I beat you bloody; even took your knife and cut you open. When you couldn't defend yourself anymore, I took your blood."

"But the doctors…" Rachel shook her head, tears welling in her eyes to spill hotly down her cheeks. "You took me to the hospital."

Ivy turned her back, swallowing hard on the lump in her throat. She tried for nonchalance. "Attack of conscience."

Rachel looked down at her hands that were shaking. Her chest felt too tight and the air was suddenly too thin. Sweat broke out over her top lip. "I went on a run… For a warlock." The rapid rise and fall of her chest echoed loudly in the small room. Her palms were stinging with remembered pain and her head throbbed once more. Flashes of words and voices stole across her memory. Amidst the darkened recollections, she could remember nothing of Ivy.

"Liar."

Ivy turned sharply, dark hair whipping about her face. "I took your blood. You were half-dead Rachel; how would you know?"

Colour flooded back in to Rachel's cheeks. "You're a terrible liar, Ivy."

"I took your blood."

"You did. The hospital told me that much. But Ivy…" Rachel walked back to the bars, hovering under Ivy's determined stare. "You didn't do _this_ to me. You made a mistake. How could you fight against that much temptation?"

"Don't make me feel better about this, Rachel. I nearly killed you." Ivy stumbled back as Rachel's hand reached out. The hurt look that crossed her face was an arrow to the chest. "It would be easier if you could just hate me, like a normal witch."

A weight that had been sitting on Rachel's shoulders lifted. Her relief was so profound it came out in a whistling breath. What had happened was not Ivy's fault and Rachel wouldn't hold her vampiric nature against her. She was a witch with a dirty soul; she had no right to throw stones.

"Ivy, I love you…"

"Woah."

"Shut up, warlock." Ivy snarled. It was easier to yell. For a moment she gaped like a fish. Her steps echoed as she approached Rachel again, mind whirling. She gripped the bars for much needed support.

"Ivy, I'm in love with you." She repeated, as if her first had gone unheard. "I need you. Whatever happened, we can work it out. I could never hate you…"

The bars were deforming under Ivy's grip. "Why now, Rachel? Why? Every time you pulled away and ran… You couldn't have been clearer."

Rachel swallowed. "I needed a chance to grow up." She admitted with difficulty. "People don't just fall in love over night." Agitation made her pace. "I made mistakes, I know. Turn knows I made _so many_ stupid mistakes… I'm sorry. I've never been sorrier in my life. Don't punish me for this Ivy; don't punish us _both_."

Ivy keened forward. A lone tear tracked down her face. She had longed for exactly these words. Only now they had come too late. Nothing could erase the truth, the depth, of the desire she now fought against.

Rachel as her lover, her everything, would have been enough once. But their connection ran deeper now. Ivy knew, much as she wished she didn't, she would never be able to hold herself back at the height of her emotion. There would be no half measures. Without meaning to, Ivy could kill Rachel, and she would enjoy it.

"I can't fight anymore. I want you too much."

"That's crap, Ivy and you know it." Rachel stalked back to the cell. Slim fingers wrapped around the cell bars just beneath Ivy's. "If you wanted me that badly, I'd be dead already." Rachel's voice softened. Her thumb tentatively stroked the underside of Ivy's wrist. "_You_ keep me safe, Ivy. You're controlling it, even when you say you can't."

"But I-"

Rachel eased a finger over Ivy's lips. Transfixed, she watched as her hand glided along a sculpted jaw to tangle lightly in ebony hair. "You can have _all_ of me." Her voice fell deeper, huskier than she was used to. "If my blood is what you want, what you need, then it's yours."

Ivy's pupils swelled to midnight. Her mouth watered and all her territorial desires sky-rocketed. It took everything she had to rein it back. Even then, her eyes remained black, only the barest hint of brown.

"We'll find a way to make it work." Rachel said. Just like every other aspect of their relationship, this new facet could find a balance. Ivy could subdue her craving somehow without killing. They would find a way.

Ivy's nose grazed the hollow of Rachel's throat through the bars. Hot breath scorched a fluttering pulse. The whisper of a touch flitted over her chin and Rachel turned into the kiss she hoped to God was coming.

"You won't like it." Ivy promised, so close to Rachel she could feel breath upon her lips.

Rachel pressed forward and groaned loud enough for it echo. Ivy's sharp nails dug into her ribs. Their teeth caught and it was a kiss too needful to have any finesse. All Rachel knew is that they had waited far too long for this moment.

Her knees buckled when they broke apart.

"Sounds as though she liked it just fine." The warlock snickered, breaking through the sudden euphoria.

Rachel charged to the next cell, she too now at the limit of her patience. When she saw the dark figure of a younger man slunk in the corner, she deflated. "You're my tag."

"Say what?"

Giddy, Rachel let her hand stray back to Ivy's waiting hold. She was tugged back protectively. Her grin widened. "You're the idiot warlock I was sent to tag. Looks like you got what you deserved."

Ivy's grip seized and Rachel winced. "_He_ did this to you?"

"No." Rachel promised. That much she was certain of. With an inner smile, she realised how much more difficult Ivy's protective instincts were going to be to placate now; it had been hard enough as just roommates. The challenge had an appeal all of its own.

"I _will_ find out." Ivy swore. Rachel believed her, smiled indulgently. Currently, she wasn't concerned on getting revenge. Life's priorities had taken a sudden, and very welcome, shift.

"Let's get you out of here." Her thumb brushed over Ivy's knuckles.

Ivy smiled for the first time, though it held a touch of sadness. "This won't be easy."

"Ivy, stop trying to scare me." She kept her smile to soften her words. "It doesn't work. And besides, my not-scary vampire, living with you has _never_ been easy." Ivy looked indignant and Rachel could only laugh. "Come on, I want to take you home."

Panic flashed across Ivy's features. She remembered the blood and the wreckage. More than anything, she wanted to keep Rachel from that.

Rachel staunched the words she knew were coming. "Whatever is waiting for us there, we'll get through it; together. I promise."

**_Fin_**


End file.
